Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Man, there has been so much going on with us and 'church' in the past six months. I've been in my cave about it all - unable or unwilling to process and express anything about it - so much good and bad, but it is time. So, as Marcus Mumford puts it...

...come out of your cave walking on your hands...and see the world hanging upside down...

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

You may have noticed the new graphic at the top. A little background...
Along the way in Italy, I had the privilege of meeting lots of people and hearing literally hundreds of stories. One of the people that most challenged my outlook on life was a guy by the name of Francesco. Journalist. Writer. Musician. Student. World Traveler. Politician. Entrepeneur. Photographer. In a word: artist.

He is a people magnet. People from all kinds of nationalities and backgrounds seemed to find him and he genuinely seemed fascinated with all of them. We definitely don't see eye to eye on everything. In fact, one of my most vivid memories with him was the time he brought an outspoken activist with him to our weekly dinner where I was interrogated on my view on creation. We had a group of US students participate in an 'art march' with some of his fellow artists, strategically placing pieces of art in various public places. One of my favorite times was simply sitting under the stars on an unknown and seemingly invisible set of stairs one night, sipping good, local wine and talking about the ideal American town of Springfield. Through it all, Francesco, probably without meaning to, stretched my definition of what art is and how it is tied in to who we are.

Shortly before we left Italy we had the great privilege of meeting Francesco's wife, Kat, also an artist and a beautiful person. As I've sat on this idea of the sunken church, this image was forming in my mind and I became obsessed with finding something to represent it. I searched and searched online. I took pictures of churches. I made a video on the pier in Ancona. I finally contacted Kat and asked if she would be willing and able to help me. And boy, did she.

I simply laid out the story for her and a simple description of what I had in mind. The image above is the result. Those of you who know Ancona might recognize the image's inspiration. I encourage you to visit her site at: www.katerinabonvora.com. She's got a great eye and is multi-talented. Thanks Francesco for stretching my boundaries and thanks Kat for helping bring my vision to life...

Monday, April 16, 2012

One of the greatest surprises along the way this last year here in New Braunfels has been the privilege of being introduced to several Christian business owners (couples). As I am going through the process of becoming one, here the Lord provides me with these examples to encourage me and challenge me.

One of these specifically, Bill, has helped me grapple with the reality of being a sender. He wrote the note I'm including below which I share with his permission. I hope it challenges you like it did me.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Jason,

I just read our mutual missionary friends' newsletter, and it brought back memories of our dinner together last Fall. What a sweet night that was! Connie and I left so encouraged! On that evening you & I had a brief conversation about the dynamics of being a SENDER. I have recently had some experiences that clarify these dynamics…and for some reason the Spirit is urging me to share them with you.

Reading of our mutual missionary friends' experience helps me focus on the trials, tribulations and victories that come with spreading the Good News. In fact, this is the second reinforcement I have received in the last 24 hrs. At Bible Study/Small Group gathering last night we discussed Acts 13 & 14. In Acts 13:3 (which Connie & I use as the foundational scripture for our business), the church at Antioch fasted, prayed and laid hands on Paul and Barnabas, and SENT them on their first missionary journey. The remainder of Acts 13 & 14 is full of the trials & conflict P&B encountered when preaching Jesus.

Our group leader then made this statement, “Persecution leads to perseverance. The Bible has many instances where God’s Word is effectively spread when God’s people don’t buckle under the weight of conflict & trials”. And he followed up with this question, “Can you describe a situation, and the outcome, in which you encountered conflict & trials when speaking out for Jesus?”

Well, I couldn’t think of such a situation…certainly not a dramatic one…where I have faced significant opposition while expressing my faith, or speaking out for Jesus. (Though I think America is increasingly moving in that direction). And then it occurred to me…it was P&B who encountered significant opposition, not the SENDERS from Antioch. If my church life in New Braunfels is something like the church life in Antioch, then my exposure to significant opposition will be much less than those who are physically in the battle field…like our mutual missionary friends.

I further thought, why don’t I relate more intimately with the truth of the “persecution leads to perseverance” axiom? I can think of two reasons:

I am not aggressive enough to put myself in situations where opposition exists

I am not vicariously involved with those who do encounter such situations

So here is my conclusion to this matter:

1.A SENDER is just a check-writer unless they are emotionally and spiritually involved with the people they are supporting.

2.A SENDER needs to vicariously live the experience daily.

A SENDER needs to know what’s going on with the people they send, or they can’t be vicariously involved with them. This is where our mutual missionary friends are doing a great thing for me by relating the struggles, encouragements, feelings of inadequacy, and moments of inspiration that they encounter daily. As I read their newsletter today, I felt an emotional and spiritual connection…no, participation…in their efforts. I believe this connection between SENDER and SENDEE is the key to successfully increasing the involvement of the local church in missionary work. And, I believe their work will be more successful because they don’t battle their opposition alone. I am battling with them! If “persecution leads to perseverance”, then let the persecution be lived, vicariously, by the entire church! How much greater would be my conviction to provide the support that our mutual missionary friends of the world need! And how much greater God’s work could be in spreading the Good News!

Not sure where all this came from…….hope it strikes a chord with you too…..

Are you available for lunch or coffee some day to get our minds together on this issue?

Friday, April 13, 2012

I asked my little brother, Tim, to share some thoughts on his perspective of the Church in the US...

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After 6 years of my job, I'm tired. I am not saying that I hate my job. I don't. I look forward to work every day, but I'm tired.

What I "do" is teach middle school kids about God at a private Christian school. And I know that any teacher, even a good one, can get tired when the spring semester comes around. But this exhaustion that I feel is different. It's not from spring fever or having too much to do. It has been building. I am mentally and emotionally tired.

I've wondered why. I thought perhaps it was because I am an introvert in love with a job that surrounds me with people. Or maybe it is the specific age group I teach. But today, I found myself wondering if I feel run down because of something bigger than my job. I think I'm tired because of our culture. More specifically, I think I'm tired of our church culture. Please understand that I don't mean to bash the American church. I love Jesus and his bride and I know how blessed I am to be a part of her. But lately, I have felt my little corner of "church" has become bored. What I mean is that the many of the Christians I know are numb to the epic romance we are invited into. I see this most clearly in my students. If I could be truly honest, my guess is that most of my students do not really care about the stuff I teach. Some of them try to care. They know they should. Many of them may not even realize they are simply going through the motions or pretending. But the boredom is obvious. This is where I start to get tired. Naturally I don't want my students to be bored so I will try to entertain. I come up with polished expositions and elaborate presentations. I develop in-class projects and activities to get the students active and out of their seats. I have learned to adapt to the bored looks on my students faces and constantly find ways to keep them entertained. But the bell rings, they leave the class, and nothing changes. I am not accusing my students as much as making an observation. And while this is an observation of only 6 years, I have seen enough patterns and consistencies in my students to know the boredom is there. That instead of an adventurous relationship with Christ, they have a hollow religion.

I know that not every church is like this, but I do think many are aware of the problem. Because there are a lot of people that are bored with the church, Christians and non-Christians alike. And truth be told, many churches are very entertaining with their polished expositions, elaborate presentations, projects, and activities. But when church is done, people leave the building and nothing changes. Let me say again that I do not mean to judge or condemn the body of Christ, simply to express my sincere confusion. Although what is becoming more clear is that entertainment is not the goal. In fact, entertainment is exhausting for an educator.

So I go home at the end of my day, still loving my job, but trying to think of how to teach kids about God and wondering what happens to bored Christians when they grow up.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

All of these and more were ways that I used to answer when people in Italy asked who I was or what I was doing in their country. We would often talk about it as a team - how do we present ourselves? I remember one team member pointedly experimented with various answers to gauge what kind of response they would illicit.

Inevitably, the responses were similar as they got to the core of why we were there. "Oh, THAT'S why you are here..." To convert. To proselytize. To change me.

One of the questions I was most anxious to answer in returning to the U.S. was, "What kind of person would I be when I wasn't paid to be good?" "What kind of disciple of Jesus would I be when my livelihood didn't depend on it?"

The answer to the question has come with an ironic twist. Whereas before I was somewhat embarrassed because my answer seemed to bring out peoples' defensiveness, or their neatly-packaged answers to faith, or their long-held suspicions, or their all-too-quick labels of 'mormon' or 'J-W', upon my return here I was embarrassed for a different reason. In answering 'salesman' or 'manager' or 'blinds man' I was touching a still-tender part of my identity that was and still is changing and forming. There is a strange, pre-wired hitch in the way I answer; as if 11 years of flinching when I answered has embedded itself in my DNA.

But lately, that has changed. As I've begun to really embrace my new location and role and situation, I've begun to truly enjoy answering the question. In talking with people, when the question comes up, I can simply answer, 'I'm normal. Just like you. Work a job. File a regular 1040." And it's not about not being weird or different as much as I love how it levels the playing field when it comes to sharing my story and how Jesus has changed me and is directing my life.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

So I've been away from the American church for a while and during that period my relationship with her has been a little dysfunctional.

We were sent by her and supported by her and what I’m beginning to realize is that distance has caused some separation.The American church has grown and evolved as have I, just on different tracks and at different speeds.

So I’ve been back now for over a year and I have to be honest, the toughest part of the transition was not fitting into a new, secular job.It was not a new school or a new diet or a new home or a new car or a new culture.It was and continues to be seeing how I fit into the American church.

I don’t.

Most Sundays are agonizing.And it doesn’t have to do with the local ‘church’ that we’re ‘attending’.We’ve felt this way at all of the ‘churches’ we’ve ‘attended’ since we’ve been back.And it isn’t that we’re bitter or jaded – we are really involved and love the church and pray for her a lot.It also isn’t because we have all the answers, because we don’t.All I can fall back on is a vague, and sometimes not so vague, sense that something simply isn’t right, that something simply doesn’t fit.

So, for a year I’ve wondered how to express what I’m feeling and experiencing and thinking.I honestly didn’t expect this.In all of my dreams of what I wanted to do and pursue in this idea of the sunken church, disillusionment with the American church didn’t really play into it. I hadn’t really experienced it before or if I had, it was masked in that dysfunctional, long-distance relationship.

I want to belong; I really do.But I don’t want to be a member.I want people in my life to be able to tell that I belong by my words and my actions.I don’t want a ceremony or a trite prayer.I want to be swept up in something bigger than myself.I want to come alongside brothers and sisters, beside friends who share a similar view of the Kingdom and the need around us.I want to belong to a community of people that are brave enough to throw out old forms and dream of new ones.

It’s strange.

In spite of all of this angst, I couldn’t tell you when I have felt more full, more alive, more myself…more in tune with God's will for my life...

Monday, January 30, 2012

Brian Rotert has become my best friend.He’s one of the only people who calls me just to chat, just to see how I’m doing and he does it regularly enough that it has really minimized the pain I feel in not being in Ancona anymore.

One of the last times he called me I was telling him about my week, about work and I stopped, realizing how it must sound – so different, so American, so business-owner-in-training, so thoroughly…un-missionary.After a moment’s pause he asked me, ‘Who are you?’

Who am I?I am a cultural chameleon.I am.I learned through some difficult years in junior high and high school to adapt between urban Chilean and rural Nebraskan cultures.During those foundational adolescent years I was heavily involved in role-playing games which emphasize the player’s ability to create and assume the roles of fictional characters and to respond to various situations that are thrown their way.My brother and I played these games for hours, I’m convinced, because there was something intrinsic in those games that hit a cord deep within our missionary kid souls – a cord inscribed with this: the necessity to adapt.

I am a cultural chameleon.I am.I recall the early weeks and months of our time in Italy and the thrill of exploring, learning and the wide openness to adapting.Teammates made comments that it seemed like I wasn’t struggling with culture shock at all and it really was minimized.I adapted, taking on aspects of the Italian culture and learned to thrive there.

Now, almost 12 years later this chameleon is putting on an oversized, Texas-colored skin.This son-of-Americans, born and raised in urban Chile, transplanted to rural Nebraska and then Missouri who then spent a third of his life in coastal, central Italy is facing a deluge of The New: new schedules, new meal times, new paces, new rhythms; new foods, new budgets, new currencies, new rituals; new dialects, new political views, new climate; new home, new car, new furniture, new church, new job, new driver’s license, new barber, new small group, new keys, new school, new routes, new friends, new, new, new.

So I go back to the question: who am I?The more I thought about a chameleon, the more I realized that the essence of the chameleon stays the same.It is a reptile that simply adapts to the environment around it and even though the outside changes, its identity doesn’t change.

I think that is one reason that transition for the mission worker is often so difficult.We set off thinking, even after studying anthropology and culture that we are defined by our behaviors and actions, our habits and rhythms but really, we are not.All those are simply external manifestations of our true identity, of a deeper set of values that is rarely changed and even then only with much difficulty and often in the fires of the hardest pains or the thrills of the greatest joys.

Who am I?I am a cultural chameleon.I adapt to survive and eventually thrive no matter where I am and though some of my behaviors and external characteristics may change, I am Jason.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

OK, wherever you stand on the bill going before Congress concerning internet censoring, you have to sense that something major is at play...tension on the strands and fabric of how we view the internet...and even deeper, how we view borders and boundaries. If you haven't checked out wikipedia yet today, do it. Impressive statement.

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The Sunken Church

This blog follows the life, ministry and adventures of the Casey family. We were missionaries in Ancona, Italy from 2000 until 2011. We are now adventuring in the US of A, experimenting with running a business, growing a garden, raising a family and challenging the Church to break outside the box and adopt new forms to reach a new generation with the truth of the Gospel.

di Ancona

About Me

Born in Santiago, Chile I have grown up on the move - lived in some 15 different homes. I am a 'word' person - enjoying almost anything to do with books and literature. I love exploring God's great world and helping people find their place in it.

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sunken

The story goes like this:

There once was a church down by the port in Ancona, Italy. With the passing of time, shaken by earthquakes and beaten by the winds, the foundations of the church crumbled and the church toppled into the sea. A friend of ours shared with us that she remembers, as a little girl, playing along the pier and seeing the remains of the church under the water. She remembers seeing the cross from the top of the church under the surface. She told us that some say that if the wind was strong enough and the waves choppy enough, you could even hear the bells...

The story leads to this question:

If we were to raise her out of the water, if we were to restore her completely to what she was originally intended to be...what would she look like? If we were to remove her from all the traditions that humankind has surrounded her with and drowned her in...who would she be?